


Desperate Measures

by Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Oblivious Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2012628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysBoth/pseuds/Wolftraps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For someone capable of seducing almost anyone with a smile, Derek Hale is astonishingly oblivious to advances from other parties. And the thing is, Stiles is about as subtle as Greenberg's crush on Coach Finstock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate Measures

**Author's Note:**

> also [on tumblr](http://wolftraps.tumblr.com/post/62032085312/von-gelmini-answered-your-post-likely-few-of-you)

 

For someone capable of seducing almost anyone with a smile, Derek Hale is astonishingly oblivious to advances from other parties. Or at least, he is when that party is Stiles. And Stiles is trying hard to believe that it's just because Derek doesn't notice and not because Derek is purposely trying to ignore him.  
  
The thing is, Stiles is about as subtle as Greenberg's crush on Coach Finstock. Which is to say, not at all. The only reason Lydia didn't know about his massive, decade long crush on her until high school was because she didn't even know he existed.  
  
Derek _does_ know Stiles exists, though; has even willingly spent time with him, sort of. So why he continues to miss all the big neon signs Stiles is dropping for him is a total mystery; one that is driving Stiles absolutely bonkers and is making him consider going to extreme measures. And Stiles has been informed by no less than five authority figures, on no less than sixteen occasions, that anything he may consider an "extreme measure" is a Very Bad Idea and should not be done. And should he find himself considering going to such lengths, he should immediately isolate himself from the rest of humanity and contact a responsible adult.  
  
Stiles also isn't very good at doing what he's told.  
  
By this point, he's tried compliments ("You look great today." "I look like I always do." "And you always look unfairly attractive."), baked goods ("What is this?" "Chocolate chip cookies. For you." "..." "Or you could share. What, are you watching your figure? Dude, you work out for _fun_ , it's ridiculous. Eat a damn cookie."), flowers ("I brought you flowers! You need some color in this place." "... There's wolfsbane in there, isn't there." "It's indigo, dumbass. Shut up and get me a vase."), even a mix tape of sorts ("What's this?" "A-" "I know what a CD is, Stiles, I meant what's on it." "Music. Just, you know, some stuff I thought you might like. Expand your selection." "There's nothing wrong with my music." "I didn't say there was, but now that you mention it-"). But everything is either met with a confused glower or devolves into bickering. And Stiles can't figure out why Derek _doesn't get it._  
  
Extreme measures are definitely necessary.  
  
\----------  
  
  
"So, I was thinking," Stiles starts. They're on their second hour in the Jeep, waiting for Scott to call and tell them where to go.  
  
"I don't want to know," Derek says immediately.  
  
"We should go out sometime, you know, if you want. I just think it'd be cool to spend some time together that isn't hunting down the evil shit threatening the town." Stiles knows his heart is probably racing, and he breathes deep, trying to calm down before he checks Derek's reaction.  
  
Derek looks… bemused, like he's been studying Stiles and just can't figure him out, but his face is more open than Stiles has seen in months. He stares at Stiles and Stiles stares nervously back. Then his brows furrow, his eyes narrow, his mouth forms a tight line, and he turns away.  
  
"It's hard enough working together to protect the town. I don't think pack outings are the best idea."  
  
A full minute later, Stiles finally stops gaping at the back of Derek's head and doesn't bother resisting the urge to groan and bang his own head against the steering wheel a few times.  
  
\-------------  
  
  
"This is so torturously pathetic to watch, I'm actually in physical pain. Please, stop pining in my vicinity or put yourself out of my misery."  
  
Stiles musters a weak glare, before groaning and dropping his head into his hands. "I wish he'd just tell me to go away. That he's not interested. So I could stop hoping that one day he'll say yes."  
  
"Stiles," Peter drawls, "trust me. My nephew is disgustingly interested. He's just convinced himself that he doesn't get nice things; so obviously he must be interpreting things wrong, because there's no way you could actually be interested."  
  
"So, what, I show up naked in his bedroom and he'll just explain it away?"  
  
"Perhaps; there are limits even to Derek's capacity for denial, deep well though it may be. I don't think we need to go that far, though." Peter drops on the couch next to Stiles, draping an arm over the back of it across Stiles's shoulders. "I think I may be able to help you."  
  
Desperate times call for desperate measures.  
  
\----------  
  
  
Stiles still doesn't actually know what the plan is, but the amount of uncomfortably familiar touching that's come from Peter in the last couple days has him almost ready to call it off and see if anyone would even notice if the asshole mysteriously disappeared.  
  
They're in Derek's apartment again, for the third time this week, because something is causing kids to get hypothermia in the middle of summer and they need to figure out what it is and how to get rid of it ASAP. It's easier to meet here sometimes, not just because of the space, but also because it's still hard to let their parents in on the goings on, even though they know.  
  
Progress is finally being made with a passage Lydia found in the Argent's bestiary, when Peter deliberately steps into Stiles's personal space, on hand on the back of his neck in a caress that makes him gag. Stiles is a nanosecond from trying to elbow Peter in the nose, crazy werewolf reflexes be damned, when suddenly he's gone; slammed against a pillar by a snarling Derek. He hisses something, too low for Stiles to hear but obviously threatening, and Peter laughs.  
  
"Just proving a point, dear nephew. I believe you have some things to account for." He nods in Stiles's direction, Derek's gaze following. They stare at each other for a moment before Peter is tossed toward the door and ordered to leave. Everyone else hastens to excuse themselves, and within minutes, Derek and Stiles are alone.  
  
"What the hell was that?" Stiles asks finally, when the awkward silence get too much to take. Derek shifts his weight a bit, crossing his arms and looking away to avoid Stiles's eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry," he says, as close to mumbling as Stiles has ever heard him. "I wasn't going to- I just couldn't stand him touching you like that. I can't- We can just… ignore it, or if you want me to leave you alone…"  
  
"Oh, yeah, of course. That explains everything. It's all so clear now. Thank you, Derek. Let's make this simple. Do you or do you not like me, romantically, in a romantic sense?"  
  
"... I do," Derek grits out, looking more like he wants to punch Stiles than kiss him.  
  
"And you don't think I like you back." Derek purses his lips and glances at the window like he's considering tossing himself out of it. "You're ridiculous. Seriously, you're slower than Scott, and trust me, the kid's smart, but he needs some processing time. Do I really need to spell it out for you?"  
  
Stiles moves in, standing directly in front of Derek so he can't keep looking away. "You're an idiot, but I really like you anyway. Romantically. And I've been trying to tell you for _months_."  
  
"What-"  
  
"Derek, I made you cookies. I brought you _flowers_. I brought you heliotrope and indigo and balsam and _red carnations-_ "  
  
"What does that me-"  
  
"I made you a mix tape of romantic songs!"  
  
"One of them kept saying 'my daddy's got a gun'-"  
  
"I straight up _asked you out._ "  
  
"You… oh." Suddenly there's a hesitant comprehension in Derek's features. His arms drop to his side as his eyes flicker between Stiles's face and his heart. "So, what? You-"  
  
With a dramatic sigh, Stiles takes the last step, wrapping his hand around the back of Derek's neck and pulling him into a kiss that is too much teeth and mashed together lips and awkward angling, but softens into something almost perfect as soon as Derek reciprocates, and is over in seconds as Derek pulls back. He's pouting, no other word for it, his nose scrunched up in disgust. It is the most worrying, disturbingly adorable thing Stiles has ever seen.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You smell like Peter."


End file.
